american-english

Isn't it funny how you think you're going to Tokyo and you actually end up in the most confusing airport in Western Europe!? The best laid plans, y'all.

As some (none?) of you know I work for an unmentioned US airline and thus I spend my life jetsetting for free, collecting passport stamps as I glamorously glide through international hotspots in elegant designer wear. Does sarcasm really translate in text? Yes I travel for free which, don't get me wrong, is bloody amazing, but it means that I am forever at the mercy of the paid flyer. I, my friends, reside in standby purgatory. For those who aren't familiar with standby travel, it basically means you travel space available - if they can squeeze you in, you go. If not, well you're making friends with the bank of seats in the corner of the gate and settling down for a nice 5 hour nap until the next flight leaves. Generally I don't mind as I see myself as a rough and ready low matienance type but it does cause problems when you have 4 days to spend and will not get to your destination in the forseeable future. At that point, you truly learn the meaning of flexibility.

Instead of being a post about how Amsterdam is a beautiful and special snowflake and how I danced on her bridges and rode a bike all over her charming streets, this is going to be a rant about how I spent my time in Amsterdam bored out of my mind standing outside of various souvenir shops.

I generally like to travel solo but I decided to take along a friend of mine, Libby. She decided to invite her friend Kitty. Kitty is an all-inclusive booze and beach resort type. She does not like it when people speak Not-English and McDonalds has weird things on the menu like lettuce or juice. Now, you may think I'm being snobby for complaining about Kitty but please keep in mind that Libby, Kitty, and I are all from a very small town. A town where most people don't have passports. A town where 99% of citizens think that Bowling Green, OH is the furthest away from home you can travel without getting eaten by the magical creatures outside of the village boundaries. All those with small-town syndrome can I get a what what?!

Day 1: Kitty didn't want to stay in a hostel. She booked a hotel on Expedia and forgot to write the name down. Just remembered that it was "the Something Tulip." O RLY? We're in Holland. EVERYTHING is the Something Tulip. After about 2 hours we found the place. We went up to our room which was a hostel dorm with a private bathroom. My heart was self-righteously glad. We took a nap and then Kitty wanted to shop for souvenirs. Yay shopping!

Day 2: Kitty wanted to shop for souvenirs again. Libby agreed. I mentally compiled all the awesome places we were going to see later.

Day 3: Kitty wanted to shop for souvenirs she may have missed the first and second time. I wondered when later was going to come.

Day 4: Kitty wanted to continue her quest for the perfect penis mug or laser engraved pot leaf ashtray. I seriously considered suicide.

Day 5: Goodbye Amsterdam!

So if you're wondering what I saw in Amsterdam, the answer is more plastic dicks, joint keychains, funny sunglasses, and faux Delft pottery than you can possible imagine. I will be going back soon. By myself.